


Drawstring

by CyberQueens



Series: Smoaking Canary One-Shots [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Archery, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberQueens/pseuds/CyberQueens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>This had to be the least platonic archery lesson anyone had ever been given because Felicity was fairly certain that getting seriously turned on was not part of Archery 101.</i> Written for the <a href="http://fyeahsmoakingcanary.tumblr.com/tagged/scawmasterpost">Smoaking Canary Appreciation Week</a> on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawstring

**Author's Note:**

> This is really old by now, from way back in July, and I sort of only now realized that I hadn't posted it outside of Tumblr like I'd planned to. So yeah, it's not new or anything.

“Careful.”

Felicity yelped, nearly letting the bow she held clatter to the ground; she spun around to find Sara at the bottom of the stairs, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Well. It would seem that she was busted.

“I just wanted to try it out, you know?” she tried justifying her possibly insane decision to have an impromptu archery lesson by herself. Even though she had never in her life shot an arrow. Or even nocked one on the drawstring for that matter. “I mean, everyone’s got some kind of cool weapon around here, and I’m the only one who can barely swing a bat, and archery seems like the default for newbies down here so I thought I’d – ”

“You should use the compound bow,” Sara interrupted gently, already moving to take it out of its glass case, snatching an arrow while she was at it.

Felicity frowned, eyeing the simple wooden one she held – one of Roy’s old ‘practice’ bows. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“The tension,” she said. “You need to build strength in your arms before you can draw without the risk of snapping it.”

“Oh,” Felicity let out. “Well, that explains why Oliver ranted at me about shrapnel in my eyes when I was playing around with one of his old bows.”

Sara smiled at that, walking up next to her. “It wasn’t exactly a problem for Roy,” she told her, sparing the crudely-crafted bow a glance, “but you’d need to slap a few bowls of water before you were okay with the draw. The compound bow, on the other hand – ” she raised it, fingers curled along the arc and an arrow in place; a whoosh later, and it was sticking out of the paper target, dead-center – “does all the work for you.”

“You’re good,” Felicity praised with a grin.

“Everyone in the League is an archer first,” Sara said, her voice soft in a way that Felicity had come to see as something that was neither here nor there; not quite spoken like she were still Ta-er al-Asfer, but not really the words of only Sara Lance either. “It’s the first weapon you pick up,” she went on, “the first one you’re trained with. It teaches discipline, and focus…helps you become aware of your surroundings.” One of her shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug, and she added, “All the other training comes after that. Everyone picks their weapon, once it’s done. Most go back to bow.”

“But not you?” Felicity asked softly.

With a slight shake of her head, Sara said, “I couldn’t. It was the League’s weapon – and your weapon is who you are. So, if I’d picked up the bow…”

“You’d really become one of them,” Felicity whispered, nodding her understanding. Sara turned to her, and a moment later, her smile returned, wider than before; Felicity tried not to stare at the curve of her lips too much, or for too long.

Tried, and failed.

Sara didn’t seem to mind, though.

After a moment, she cleared her throat. “Here,” she passed her the bow, and Felicity pretended that the brush of her fingers against Sara’s as she took it wasn’t completely intentional. Roy’s old bow made its way into Sara’s hands, before it was, rather unceremoniously, dropped onto a pile of mats nearby.

Felicity gripped the compound bow, heavier than the wooden one, placing her hand at the front and securing her fingers’ hold like she’d seen Oliver and Roy, and Sara, do a million times over, before testing the string; it drew back seamlessly, following her hand as she pulled. She grinned in triumph, just as Sara walked back to her side, more arrows in hand.

She let all but one clatter to the ground, offering it for Felicity to take.

She let the string return to its former position, curling her fingers around the arrow’s shaft instead. She went to place it on the bow then, imitating what she had seen all the archers around her do; her grip on the bow was tight and secure, her arm locked in place, and the fletching was wedged between her fore and middle fingers as she placed it against the string, drawing back until she felt the brush of it against her cheek.

Next thing she knew, it was Sara’s fingers brushing her drawing arm.

They started at her elbow, nudging it into a better position, trailing down to her hand; Felicity bit her lip when she felt Sara move behind her, just close enough for her to feel the heat of her body against her back. A foot was nudged between hers, pulling the right one back to bring the left one forward; she stumbled a little, making Sara steady her with her hands on her hips, and Felicity released her teeth’s hold on her bottom lip, licking over the spot instead.

“Your back needs to be a straight line,” Sara spoke, so close to her ear that Felicity felt goosebumps start spreading from the back of her neck, all the way down her arms when one of Sara’s hand moved to her lower back, applying gentle pressure to get her to thrust her hips just a little bit forward.

“And your shoulders shouldn’t be so high up.” Those same ill-placed shoulders were getting pushed down a second later, both of Sara’s hands splayed wide across the skin exposed by her sleeveless t-shirt; her touch lingered there longer, across the scar that marred her shoulder blade.

Sara hummed softly, just dragging the pads of her fingers along the puckered flesh that she had stitched back together herself, and Felicity thought this had to be the least platonic archery lesson anyone had ever been given because she was fairly certain that getting seriously turned on was _not_ part of Archery 101.

The hands left her shoulders, adjusting her arms’ position one last time. “Take your aim,” Sara told her, right next to her ear again, settling her hands back at her hips – and really, how did she expect her to focus with that? Honestly.

Still, she did her best, aligning the tip of her arrow with what she deemed to be the approximate center of the target.

“And release,” Sara instructed.

Felicity let the arrow fly, pulling her fingers away from the bowstring in one sharp, smooth motion, and watched it slice the air, right up until the moment it pierced the second circle from the center. Not quite the bullseye; not too bad either, though.

And Sara seemed to be of a similar mind.

“Nice,” she complimented, a soft whisper that skimmed right along the shell of Felicity’s ear, making her eyes flutter shut.

She lowered her arms, letting the bow dangle at her side, and turned her head around to prop her chin on her shoulder; Sara met her eyes, her mouth quirked into a small half-smile, her fingers flexing where they still brushed Felicity’s sides.

They’d known each other for a while now; almost a year, actually. They’d fought crime, saved each other’s lives, hugged very tightly from time to time, and gotten drunk together on occasion. And every once in a while, Felicity thought she could lean in and press her lips to Sara’s just as easily as she had done any of those things.

She didn’t bring it up, though, not in so many words. And neither had Sara.

But Sara had also always been honest with her – completely, easily honest, from the way she called her cute to how she called her brave, and Felicity had found that there was a certain safety in that; in knowing that, if she brought it up _now_ , she’d get an honest answer this time, too.

She transferred the bow into her other hand, turning around. “Sara?” she prompted softly.

She didn’t get a vocal go-ahead but Sara’s eyes were open and blue, waiting for her to continue. So, she asked, “This isn’t all just in my head, right? You and me, I mean. I’m not like, misreading the signals here or something? Because, you know, it’s – ” she licked her lips – “it’s happened before, but I don’t think I got it wrong this time, so…” She blew out a breath, squaring her shoulders a little and watching as Sara’s expression slowly softened, her mouth ticking up at the corners and creasing her dimples; Felicity loved her dimples.

“No,” Sara told her, quiet but clear, “you didn’t get it wrong.”

Felicity felt a surge of affection run through her just at hearing those few words. Because Sara was honest with her. A former assassin who claimed she walked around with no soul in her, and she was the safest person Felicity knew.

“But maybe it’s not such a good idea,” Sara added, more quietly. “You and me.”

She’d seen that one coming, Felicity thought. “Why not?” she asked.

Sara looked down, dragging her tongue over her lower lip. “It’s not easy, being with someone like me,” she eventually said. “I’m still…getting my soul back, and some days, I think I’m good – especially when you’re around.” Felicity couldn’t help her smile and for a split-second, Sara returned it; it dimmed down again as she added, “And then on others, I feel like I’m still Ta-er al-Asfer, deep down.” She shrugged. “And you, you have a way of understanding me, and all the others, even though you’ve never felt the way we have, but it’s – it still wouldn’t be easy, to be with…someone like me.”

There was a little furrow in her brow by the time she was done, and Felicity thought it was probably because she, for her part, was grinning – which, she supposed, was not the reaction Sara had been expecting.

Felicity lifted her free hand, debated for a second, then made her call; she raised all the way up, tucking a strand of Sara’s hair behind her ear. That earned her a wide-eyed look and a couple of confused blinks. “I’m not worried about that,” she said, smoothing her hand down the soft blonde strands under her fingers, “because, like you said, I do understand, but what’s important here is that you’ve always been honest with me.” She shrugged. “So, if it gets bad, I know you’d tell me, which just makes things _so_ much easier. So – ” she made sure her brightest smile was in place – “I’m not worried. At all.”

Sara was looking at her as if she were the most amazing thing she had ever seen, and Felicity let her weigh her options while she amused herself with a lock of her hair, twining it around her finger then watching the play of light against the strand as she unwound it.

She must have gone through the process at least ten times before Sara’s hand rose too, to gently curl around her wrist; her other hand came up to run a path along her jaw then settle at the back of her neck, and Felicity only had a moment to feel the little twist in her belly before Sara was leaning in for a kiss.

It was sweet and soft, though Sara’s lips lingered, drawing back only to come back for more. When she pulled away, it was to rest her forehead against Felicity’s, just for a little while, before tipping her head back. “We should figure it out as we go,” she said softly. “See what happens.”

Felicity nodded, moving her hand from Sara’s hold to her cheek, because her dimples were showing again and she couldn’t resist running the pad of her thumb against one. Kissing Sara, she decided, really was an easy thing to do. As was winging it when it came to what happened next. It felt safe regardless.

“Hey,” she whispered, “so uh, my archery skills still need some improvement. I think we should continue with the lesson.”

There was a beat before Sara let out a small chuckle, and it fanned across Felicity’s still-wet lips, before she nodded, very seriously; Felicity almost erupted in a fit of giggles.

She turned back to her previous position, facing the target and with the bow in the right hand, and Sara bent down to pick up an arrow for her. She placed it on the string and drew back like before, just as Sara slid back behind her.

And this time when she placed her hands on her shoulders to adjust their position, it was her lips running along Felicity’s scar.


End file.
